


audile

by Wahmenitu



Series: dimension [13]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Gen, Synesthesia, Team Red, drugged matt, to an only mildly mortified miles, who can finally gush about his friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-23 01:27:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wahmenitu/pseuds/Wahmenitu
Summary: "Well," Matt sucked in another breath, considering, "I know some basic facts about you. You're fourteen. Skinny. Shorter than me, probably not for long. Half-black, half Puerto Rican. Wade told me your eyes are hazel-""I know. I know all of that stuff, but how do you see me?"
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Series: dimension [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1550974
Comments: 21
Kudos: 338





	audile

**Author's Note:**

> have some happy Matt gushing about his friends during these trying times, friends.
> 
> also PLEASE STAY HOME.

When Matt took the brick to the jaw, Wade declared it a bad fucking night and hauled them to his place.

Miss Claire Temple met them there, took one look at the blood dripping down Matt's jaw and into the soaked fabric at his collar, and also declared it a bad fucking night.

Miles got the job of holding Matt down while Claire gave him morphine. Normally, she said, she tried to respect his wishes to go without, but this time she had promised that it was necessary. Miss Claire Temple had shushed Miles through his first knife wound, looked into his eyes and promised him that everything was going to be okay, so he believed her. When the stitches were done, she packed up her things and told them to call her if anything changed, and then she left.

Sometimes Miles wondered if anyone else on Earth was as wildly efficient as Miss Claire Temple.

He doubted it.

His first job done, Wade gave him a second: babysit the drugged Devil while I go fetch his boyf. Babysitting apparently included no drinking, no driving, no roofs, and pretty generally none of the things Matt typically found fun. If it made him smile, Wade had said, don't fucking let him do it. And then he shut the door behind him and left Miles alone with Matt and one fist shaking while he cursed Wade in vague mumbles.

Miles hunkered down, hoping that the dull noise of the television playing behind them would be enough to keep Matt good and occupied until Wade returned with Foggy.

It was not enough.

After the third wrestle back to the floor, Miles ripped his mask off and threw it towards the couch with a huff. Matt's chin followed the mask, his eyes just slightly too far towards the ceiling, and Miles had his idea.

"Hey, Matt?"

He took the answering grunt as permission.

"Your senses were like- super enhanced from the accident, right?

Another grunt. Obviously. Miles already knew this, but he felt like the question he was about to ask was kind of personal. He felt like it needed a little follow up, a little easing in. His Uncle Aaron had always told him that some people liked to hear you repeat things they'd told you before; that it showed them that you were listening, that you thought about them at least once in your free time. People liked that. It made you personable.

Uncle Aaron had taught him a lot of things while being in the employ of one of the greatest criminal masterminds, but that was beside the point.

"So I know you can sort of see- not _see_ see, obviously, but like... you weren't always blind. You have to have some kind of picture of what the world you're facing looks like, right?"

Matt was interested now, still fidgeting but settling in his spot on the floor with his face tipped towards Miles. Waiting.

"So what do I look like?"

Matt cocked his head, considering the question before he released a slow breath through his teeth. "It's- it's hard to describe, kid, it's..."

"Will you try? I just want to try and understand."

"Well," Matt sucked in another breath, considering, "I know some basic facts about you. You're fourteen. Skinny. Shorter than me, probably not for long. Half-black, half Puerto Rican. Wade told me your eyes are hazel-"

"I know. I know all of that stuff, but how do you _see me_?"

Matt settled again, rubbing the tips of his fingers slowly across the hardwood floor beneath him. His eyes flickered in Miles' direction, but they could never settle for long. He licked his bottom lip, before taking another breath as his eyes fluttered shut.

"When I was a kid- growing up in Hell's Kitchen- my dad and I took a lot of walks. We walked to the gym, walked to the corner store. Walked to school. There was a lot of graffiti- most of it I couldn't really read. I hadn't seen the shapes enough to really be able to make out what some people were tagging- but there was other stuff, too. Pictures- or I guess paintings? All these bright colors- big splashes of emotion and feeling that people put on walls for the world to see."

Miles shifted and pulled his knees to his chest, tucking his chin against them.

"That's what you look like when you move in my mind- you're so fast- just these big flashes of color in my head. But I know where you are because I can smell you- all the time. You smell like ozone- like the air before a lightning strike. I guess it's that thing you do with the electricity, but I always know when you're coming, Miles. It feels like an incoming storm."

Matt had a nice voice, when he wasn't growling or snapping or eviscerating someone. Miles wanted him to keep talking. It was keeping him calm, even if his words slurred a little and his head swayed. Almost like he wanted to sleep, but Miles knew Matt would die before he fell asleep on Wade's floor. Matt declared that he would die before a lot of things happened. Foggy called him a drama queen.

"What about... someone like Miss Page?"

Matt hummed, a low sound in the back of his throat while he gave it some thought.

"Karen feels like me. She feels like heat... there's anger in her, too. I know there is- I've heard it. I've felt it. She could be a Murdock, the way she's got it in her. But she uses it for a different kind of fight."

"What does it feel like?"

When had his voice dropped into a whisper like that?

"It itches under our skin, kid. Fighting to get out, to hit and hurt and make things right- Karen uses the paper though. Uses all of that righteous anger to bring corporations to their knees. When it fades, though, when she's with us? With me and Foggy? She kinda..." his head tips, and for a moment Miles thinks he really might have fallen asleep, "... she glows like a candle, in my head. She's comforting and calm. Smells like vanilla all the time- has this perfume. Uses her finger to put a dot on her neck and then washes her hands- she didn't want it to overwhelm me. S'nice."

Miles looks to the ground, and then back towards Matt to find he's rolled his head towards him again, his eyes focused somewhere around Miles' knee, so close to his face it's almost startling. He's waiting, Miles realizes. Waiting for another.

"... Wade."

Matt huffs a laugh. He'd been waiting for that one, apparently.

"You won't like it."

"Tell me anyways."

"Wade smells like death. He smells like copper and iron and gunpowder, always. Exclusively, almost. Wade looks like the darkest parts of my head, Miles. He's everything I could become if I really let the devil out, if I really gave into every bad thought I've ever had about someone."

He sounds tired as he says it. It's obviously something that he's thought about before. But there's a reason Matt is still around Wade. There's a reason that Matt trusts Wade with Foggy's life.

"But he- there's something about him that reminds me of my dad."

"You think of Wade as-"

"No," Matt cuts him off calmly. "Not like you're thinking. He just makes me remember him. The leather that he wears smells like my dad's old gloves. He's not a replacement, but it grounds me. It reminds me of why I do things the way that I do. My dad reminds me why I don't do things like Wade or Frank Castle. He'd hate that I do what I do- he never wanted me to use my fists- but if I was going around killing people? I couldn't ever face him."

He's getting that sad, forlorn look. The one Matt typically tries to keep on lock around anyone but Foggy Nelson. And Miles knows exactly how to turn this around.

"Do Foggy."

Matt's brow furrows, almost suspiciously in Miles' direction. He can't see him, but Miles smiles beatifically.

"C'mon, please?"

And a drugged Matt Murdock cannot resist gushing about his boyf. His shoulders wriggle a little, like he's settling, but Miles knows he's really just revving up the engine. He's about to get an earful about Foggy Nelson.

"Ever been to the beach, kid?"

Wait, what?

"Uhh, yeah. Um, I went on a trip to Puerto Rico with my parents once. _Mis abuelos_ have a house on the water."

"Y'know that feeling- where you've been sitting in the sun for a long time? Maybe hours, maybe minutes, but it feels like it's just sizzling against your skin? Hot to the touch and burning?"

Yeah, Miles knows the feeling.

"To me, Foggy feels like stepping into the ocean after sitting in the sun for hours and hours... he's like... he's like stepping into a house- when it's so hot and humid outside you feel like every breath you take is wet- like walking into an air conditioned house. The sweat cooling and drying on your forehead and back- he's like that for my head. He's like a balm against a sunburn, he brings everything back to baseline for me."

Matt takes another breath, Miles half fears he's about to get weepy.

"When he found out- I mean really found out about my senses- he switched his laundry detergent. Switched his shampoo and his body wash for me- he was afraid it was too much. Even though I'd spent years around it he didn't care, he wanted everything to be easier on me. Now he smells like this cooling mint and eucalyptus-"

"How do you know what eucalyptus smells like?"

"He read it off of the shampoo bottle for me," Matt explained tartly. He opens his mouth again, probably to continue, when the door opens again, He must have been really into his one-man Foggy parade if he didn't hear them coming.

"Damn, buddy, you really did take that to the face, didn't you?"

Foggy's making his way across the room, already pulling his jacket off, but Miles doesn't take his eyes off of Matt, because he can really see it now.

He can see the way that all of Matt's muscles seem to unclench and unwind, his breathing evening out to something slow and almost lazy. All of the tension leeches out of him and by the time Foggy's reached his side, Matt his grinning, wide and lazy.

"Claire promised it wouldn't scar, Fogs."

"Well thank god for that. That face probably pulls in half of our clientele," Foggy replies as he folds himself to sit on the floor by Matt's head, before scooting forwards carefully. Matt lifts his head without a word, settles it in the cradle of Foggy's legs as Wade pops two beers open in the kitchen.

"What movie we on this time?"

"Don't remember- just pull up the queue," Foggy responds to Wade while carding a hand through Matt's thick hair carefully, Miles inching out of the way. "You can stay, Miles. Wade and I always watch something- give Matty a little time to settle before we work on getting him home. Just let your mom and dad know where you are, yeah?"

And damn if something about Foggy's gentle, reassuring smile doesn't make everything in Miles relax too. He just has that quality, like Miss Claire Temple. Foggy Nelson really makes you feel like everything's gonna be okay.

And maybe it all will be.

Maybe everything will be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> wahmenitu.tumblr.com if you have any questions/comments
> 
> also PLEASE STAY HOME.


End file.
